Chemistry
by Predec2
Summary: One-shot. Brian reflects on his relationship with Justin as he does some research for a client.


_Disclaimer: QAF and its characters are the sole property of Showtime and Cowlip Productions. No copyright infringement is intended._

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"What a bunch of bullshit," Brian muttered as he glanced through the article he was reading in the present issue of _Psychology Today_. If he hadn't needed some background research material for the new men's cologne he was about to help market for his client, he wouldn't have been caught dead looking at this tripe.

"Not the kind of chemistry I like," he murmured with a smirk, peering at the headline: _Romantic Chemistry, Explained._ He snorted at the cheesy title. "Oh, brother." Not that chemistry didn't have its uses from time to time, but his days of threatening to blow up a school were long gone. But _romantic _chemistry? That bordered on some fantasy story.

He had to admit, though, the first 'rule' set forth in the article was true to a certain degree: _If you feel like certain parts of your anatomy have a mind of their own, it's because in a way, they do._ He smiled as he glanced over at his sleeping partner lying next to him, totally oblivious to the nonsense he was currently reading. Just looking at Justin, though, spread out on his stomach and (naturally) hogging more than his side of the bed, did make 'certain parts of his anatomy' definitely come awake. He shifted a little uncomfortably on the bed as he tore his gaze away from the beautiful form softly snoring next to him to read the next part: "_One system controls the craving for sexual gratification. Another system rules over romantic love, that obsessive thinking and craving and focusing on one individual. They're not always connected, which is why you can be madly in love with someone and only have so-so sex, while you can have intensely passionate sex with someone you never want to see again! With time, and a little luck, however, lust can lead to more tender feelings. You can start having sex with someone and then fall in love._

He thought back then to when he and Justin had first met. Their initial encounter definitely had fallen into the "in lust" category, at least for him. When he had first seen Justin standing under that street lamp – looking at once so innocent and sexy at the same time – his entire body had come to life. He had thought he was the most beautiful, blond twink he had ever seen. And that was before he knew what treasures lay underneath that denim-clad, schoolboy body. Fuck, he couldn't believe his luck later in the loft when he had taken great pleasure in helping the boy to undress, feeling like he had won the lottery or been given the greatest Christmas present he could receive – or both. And he had been so damn responsive to his every overture. It was like he had been made just for him – to do with what he wanted, when he wanted; to have him for one glorious night before moving onto the next trick.

Only Justin hadn't wound up just being 'another trick.' Far from it. Yes, it had taken him a while to figure that out – perhaps not as long as he tried to tell himself, though. And it had definitely been 'lust' at first, not 'love.' He had had no intention whatsoever of falling in love with _anyone_, much less this persistent, pesky, high school kid who was on his 'first-fuck' high. But try as hard as might, he could no longer deny that is exactly what happened. Somewhere along the line, his intentions had become muddied and complex – and had changed into something even he didn't recognize at times. He sighed in resignation, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut briefly due to exhaustion, before he opened them back up to continue reading:

_Much like booze, cigarettes, and reality TV, we know bad boys are, well, bad for us, but we just can't help ourselves. Why do we crave something we know is trouble? _Brian smirked; he already knew the answer to that one. He was pretty damned irresistible. What was the fun or challenge in pursuing something bland and vanilla? He glanced down at his bed companion, his heart doing an involuntary skittering as he couldn't help thinking that his partner was pretty damn irresistible, too. Had been since the day they had first met, only he had persisted in denying it for a while.

He watched as Justin murmured in his sleep and turned on his side, his arm reaching out almost instinctively to locate him. His hand eventually wound up coming to rest on his upper leg before Justin let out a soft breath between his perfectly-formed lips and he settled back into slumber. Turning back to his article, he read on about 'so-called' dangerous relationships: _These kinds of relationships could literally become an addiction where you do crazy things: You wait all night by the phone or even join in dangerous behaviors. _He could certainly relate to that. Justin was definitely an addiction by now – one of the good kinds, though. And as much as he would deny it with his last, dying breath, when Justin was away from him, more times than not he found that he couldn't sleep very well when he was gone. It just was not the same without him, whether he was in LA, at Debbie's or Daphne's after one of their spats, or, and he had to swallow hard at the thought, his temporary dalliance with that damn Paganini, Jr. And when Justin had been injured at the prom, Mikey had been right. He had never felt so numb or dead in his life – and he had tried his damnest to make that reality come true with the endless supply of booze and drugs he had ingested afterward. Thank God Justin had survived, though, or there may have ultimately been TWO victims of that bashing.

He turned the page to read the last point in the article: _Why does the spark of chemistry disappear over time? No longer tearing each other's clothes off every time you meet? You might fear your love is dying, but it's actually just transforming into something you can handle for the long run._ Brian snorted as he threw the magazine down onto the mattress. "I knew it was a bunch of bullshit," he growled softly as he gazed down at his lover. He couldn't speak for anyone else, but as Emmett might put it, when it comes to _this_ man, his flame of passion was burning hotter than ever. Clothes – or lack thereof – were definitely optional in this household. A clothed Sunshine was beautiful and alluring; a totally _unclothed_ Sunshine, however, was sex personified. The man still made him hot and bothered in an instant, merely with a touch of his hands or his lips. He moaned at the image in his mind's eye as he finally saw the fixation of his desires stirring, almost as if he knew in that instant that he needed something; he needed _him_.

He watched as those impossibly long, golden eyelashes fluttered opened, and those lips he knew were so soft and warm whispered to him. "Bri…Brian?" Justin murmured sleepily, his face furrowing with concern as he noticed the small reading light by the bed still on and his partner sitting up with his back against the headboard. He twisted his head to search for their chrome alarm clock on the other side of the bed. "It's almost four o'clock," he declared as he flopped onto his back and stared over at him. "Why are you still up? Is everything okay?"

_I'm still 'up' all right, _Brian silently thought as his eyes drunk in the sight of his drowsy but beautiful partner. He slid his part of the sheet away from his body to show Justin just how 'up' he was as he replied, "I was doing some research for the Clemson Cologne campaign for later today." Justin nodded in remembrance of an earlier conversation they had had about that subject as he added with a sultry smile, "But I think I prefer some hands-on research now instead."

He turned to extinguish the nightlight then, leaving the bedroom cast in its familiar, orange glow that turned Justin's skin a shade akin to gold, and made his skin shimmer – skin that he knew was impossibly soft and pliant to his touch, to his caresses. Throwing the magazine haphazardly down onto the floor, he flipped over so he was lying partially on, partially off Justin's chest. Despite his body's warmth, he felt Justin tremble slightly under him as he nestled one of his longer legs between the V of his body and began to slowly caress his arms before sliding his hands over to his chest, his fingertips trailing a light path across his belly and abs. Justin wasn't the muscled, athletic kind – although he kept quite active between his part-time job as an exhibit preparer at the Pittsburgh Museum of Fine Art and his own creative endeavors, along with some rigorous 'physical activity' in bed. But he liked his softer curves and angles. He was lean but not overly taut, giving him a multitude of chances to explore his body at every opportunity, just like he was doing now.

"Brian…" His lover's whisper of his name was like some irresistible siren call to him as he began to pepper gentle kisses on Justin's shoulder and collarbone, before his lips slid up his jawline to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, one that quickly deepened into unbridled desire as his lover's lips parted willingly right on cue to allow him greater access.

He heard a sound escape his partner's lips like a contented purr through the kiss as he devoured his lips and tongue until he finally had to break it off to recapture his breath. Pulling back, he stared into the eyes that, from the start, had been able to bore right through to his very heart and soul – eyes that never wavered in their intensity, their passion, or their faith in him. He loved the shade of Justin's eyes – how they were wide and expressive like a brilliant, blue sky when he was excited or happy about something, or how they appeared now – rich and fathomless, a darker hue of cyan when he was aroused. He loves how he makes these little whimpers and soft mewing noises when he touches him – yes, right there – and makes him so incredibly hard in a moment's time. He loves the curve of his lower back, just before he glides his hands over the rounded buttocks that no one else in the world possesses. He loves how his body molds so perfectly against his, and how he angles his hips and legs just right to take them both to the apex of ecstasy.

But he also loves Justin's passion – for his art, for his family, for his friends, for what he believes in, for his own son – the child he has informally made his own. And he loves his loyalty to him and his unwavering devotion to their relationship – one that had been borne from difficulty, but also deepened and strengthened through their diversity.

Everything about this man – inside and out, physical and emotional – is so immensely perfect to him. At that moment, as they began to make love for the countless time, he didn't know whether to attribute it all toward some type of chemistry or not. The reason why might forever elude him and sound too pat, too scientific. All he knows is that when he looks into Justin's face, he never wants to let the feeling go. He didn't need any fucking chemistry to tell him that.


End file.
